


The Schnee Bastard

by Campertrash



Category: RWBY
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Neglect, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-14 01:36:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17499146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Campertrash/pseuds/Campertrash
Summary: Jacques can't seem to keep it in his pants. He knocks up the wrong woman at the wrong time. After he thought the kid was out of his hair, and he finally forgot about it, he got a knock on the door.





	1. Chapter 1

Jacques POV  
I am pretty deep into the bottle tonight. More so than I have been in a long time. Now that Willow wants another child I’m left trying to consider how to balance the time it will take to raise two children AND run the largest dust company on all of Remnant. So logically I decided to get absolutely plastered at the nearest cantina. About a half a bottle in a girl came up to me. I don’t know if it was the booze or just her natural looks, but she was stunning. That was the last thing I remembered from that night. The next morning I was in a stranger's bed in a stranger's home. When I looked over I realized my mistake. She was a filthy faunus. I left her a large sum of money and a note that basically said keep the money and disappear. That should've been the end of it. Of course about 13 years later a government agent appeared at my front door. A faunus boy was held in place by a strong arm wrapped around his bicep, and he had the coldest eyes- eye I’ve ever seen. Hardly a teenager and yet half of his face had already been damaged so badly it had to be wrapped in bandages that were nearly black from how infected the wounds were. “Mr. Schnee. Your child-” The agent began  
“I’ll stop you there. As far as I’m concerned this bastard isn’t mine. I’m not taking care of him, I gave his mother the money required to raise the child until he is old enough to work under Atlas labor laws. Send him to an orphanage for all I care.”  
Then the bastard cut in “I’m about as ecstatic as you are, but my crackhead mother blew all of the money before I was even ten. Then she burned the house down with me in it because she managed to OD on heroin. You want me gone just give me a weapon and send me to a training camp for aspiring huntsmen. I got better things to do than try and earn your favor.”   
I smiled at this. Perhaps getting rid of him wouldn't be so hard after all I spoke at them both “Leave the boy here. I’ll work out a deal with him.”  
Within a minute the door was shut behind us and the agent was gone, leaving only myself, the bastard, and Klein in the entry. I started first “What's your name son?”  
He looked at me with his cold one eyed stare “Smoke. Kinda ironic when you consider the fact I lost one of my eyes in a house fire.” I cut him off before he could continue  
“I only wanted your name. Klein, get him some proper medical attention. Sooner he gets back up on his feet the sooner we can be out of each others hair.”  
Klein glanced down for the briefest of moments “Yes, sir.” He said leading the bastard with him back out the door and to a private medical facility.  
Smoke POV  
The butler, Klein was walking me towards a car when he spoke up “Permission to speak Mr. Schnee?” I glanced around in confusion and realized he was asking me. “Never need to ask or be afraid to speak your mind around me. I was raised more by a homeless man that would get into bare knuckle boxing matches with other people desperate to survive just so he could punch a meal ticket than I was by my actual parents. I have no interest in being a Schnee, no interest in business, and certainly no interest in staying this far north for too long.”  
He nodded his head solemnly and opened the car door for me before climbing in beside me. He began “I only feel it fair to warn you that Mr. Schnee likely won't treat you very well during your stay here. Odds are you'll be under house arrest, and that's even if he wants the rest of the family to know about you. Should you ever need help, or even a conversation don't be a stranger.” He then put a fatherly hand on my shoulder for a moment and gave a knowing nod as to what I was about to have to go through.  
“Thank you Klein.” I said slumping down into my seat, the facade of strength finally leaving me  
A look of concern came across Klein's face “Are you alright sir?” He seemed more worried by the syllable  
My vision was a bit hazy, but I was able to force out the words “I'll live. Just call me Smoke though.” Next thing I know I'm in a bedroom without windows, and a solid wooden door being the only way in or out.  
An easy test of trying to open it told me that I was locked in here, and I lacked the strength to get out at the moment. I pounded on it a few times and sat down on my bed, taking my surroundings in a bit better. I only had a twin bed, a small round table in the corner, a bookshelf directly across from the bed, and a section of concrete wall instead of plaster on either side of the door. The overhead light was controlled by the only switch in the room, and the hatch in the door allowed food and other objects to be passed into my “room”. Rather than wait on the off hope that I would be visited by someone I instead broke into the collection of books before me. Giving credit where it was due the books had excellent variety. Ranged all the way from gardening to advanced unit tactics. I opted for a book I saw on boxing and hand to hand combat. Obviously I couldn't learn everything without experience, but ya gotta improve where you can. I read over head movements, footwork, rotations, and even the history behind these techniques before me. Knowing I couldn't risk breaking anything I instead practiced punches on the concrete walls. Must've broken my hands about 5 times before I could get a good routine in. Klein was a saint through all of this, keeping me updated on the world, bringing me new books, and occasionally breaking me out for a while to stretch my legs while the family was away. Life wasn't perfect, but I was happy enough.  
Then one day Jacques crashed on in to my room shit faced drunk and swinging. His shots wouldn't have hurt if it weren't for the fact my face still wasn't healed yet. Couple that with the fact it was a sucker punch, the most I could manage was a bit of turtling against the punches and hoping to regain my composure. When I did I popped the drunkard as hard as I could. I heard the crack of bone on bone as he roared in pain, clutching at his freshly broken nose. In a moment of retaliation he tackled me to the ground (I wasn't even 15 yet, and despite being a polar bear faunus I still couldn't match the strength of a fully developed adult) and then grabbed at the burns on my face. I felt his nails dig in like hot coals on the wound, and then the rip as he took more flesh off with them. I roared in pain and bucked him off of me, punching the floor and holding the reopened wounds as agony coursed through my body.  
I awoke the next morning in a room with a view, and my wounds had been taken care of again. Must have been the prick's way of saying he was sorry. I sat staring out the window for a while before Klein walked in “Mr. Schnee apologizes for what he did to you two nights ago Smoke. Understandably he couldn't give it in person. I'll let you decide why, but this is your new room. When you turn 15 Mr. Schnee will allow you to begin training to become a huntsman.” Klein said as he poured me a drink  
“Thank you. What does me becoming a huntsman have to do with anything though?” I said before downing my drink.  
Klein began again “Well, in light of what Mr. Schnee did after finding out one of his board members was killed by a member of the white fang we decided that it would be best for not only your safety, but for his safety that you live off grounds until you leave for full time training at one of the major academies.”   
I snorted at this and chuckled back “So Jacques is just afraid because I busted his nose?”   
Klein glanced around “Yeah.”  
We both started to laugh at this fact.  
A few weeks later Klein and I hauled my possessions into the back of a truck, and we went off to a forest cabin owned by a retired huntsman. The old man would be the one to train me to become a huntsman. He would also have to assume the task of schooling and raising me for the remainder of my stint with him. When the last of my possessions were taken out of the truck I turned to Klein and we wrapped each other into a bear hug. I spoke first “Thank you for being the father I never had Klein.”  
I felt my eyes water as he replied “You're welcome, son.”  
I watched one chapter of my life drive away in that moment. The first father I ever knew. The one who taught me humor and manners, friendship, and above all kindness had just left. Now it was time I learned toughness, and what it meant to be a man. A Swanson even.


	2. Be a man (as swift as a coursing river), Fuck that be a Swanson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freed from the hell of the Schnee home, Smoke will finally learn what it means to provide an honest days work

Smoke POV  
Mr. Swanson wasn’t the kindest man. Granted he never tried to rip open the burn scar on my face, and he actually allowed me the freedom to enjoy myself. He was distant, didn't dislike me at all, but he never really got buddy buddy either. My first day in he taught me about the value of hard work. I had to fell trees using only an axe, haul the tree into the shop myself, chop a cord of wood, and fill up a barn with hay bales all before sunset. With only 2 hours to do each task. When I obviously failed, Mr. Swanson pulled me aside and said “Son, in life you're going to learn that trying to do too many things at once will only come back to bite you in the ass. Each task I gave you could take a normal man an entire day to accomplish. I set you up to fail so you would learn the importance of not half assing two things, but to whole ass one. That said I'm impressed by the amount you got done in each task given the time restraint, but you still couldn't finish it on time. By the time you're ready to leave here you'll be able to do all of those things by lunch. You earned your keep today though, come on inside for dinner.” I ate three pounds of steak and eggs that day.  
I spent six months doing that routine every day. When I finally accomplished the daily tasks I was allowed to begin combat training. I took to that much faster than I did the muscle growth required to do that kind of work. Mr. Swanson was kind enough to train me in the brawling style I was such a fan of. He refined my technique and made my natural punching power into something that could kill Grimm bare handed. To compliment that power he taught me how to make my own weapon. A lumber axe, no fancy dust infusion, no gun, and only one sharp end. Handmade by myself and Mr. Swanson. I figured the ability to bludgeon would be more useful than two blades accomplishing the same task. It was time for my last trial. I was dropped in the middle of the woods a full days journey from the homestead. I had to be home before nightfall or I would have to do it again. I touched down and began to sprint in the direction I had to travel. My axe remained in its sheath with it secured to my back so I didn’t have to carry the thing in my hands. It was about three miles into the sprint when the grimm that had been chasing me since my arrival managed to corner me. I readied my fists, not wanting to unleash such a power as Absolution on the world quite yet. The grimm numbered close to 100 and were comprised of everything from beowolves all the way to what appeared to be a Beringel. I knew there was no way I would make it out of this alive. As the nearest grimm made its way over to me I watched a line of flame circle myself, hot enough to start singing some of my hair from 10 feet away. As soon as it appeared it was gone, and the Grimm had fallen silent. Then I felt a burning in the very core of my being. Not a metaphorical one, but like my body was literally on fire from the inside. With a roar of pain I dropped to my knees as my shirt began to smolder on my body. As I batted at it in panic trying to extinguish the fire and distract myself from the pain I watched a noticeable amount of flame shoot forward from the friction I caused. A Beowulf jumped back at the sight of the flame, and the burn on my body lessened. Realizing my options I snapped my fingers and watched the Beowulf that I was looking at combust and howl in pain. Without hesitation I did it again, this time sending a wall of flaming death at the horde before me. It consumed them all, leaving many dead and the rest terrified. I then made the ground behind them combust, leaving them trapped with me. I snapped my fingers again and again, sending the flaming explosions at them until every Grimm in my path had died. The open air lessened the force of my explosive potential, but with the results I managed I won't complain. I was more exhausted now than I ever was, but I knew that it was run or die. Legs numb, vision tunneled and cloudy, I pressed forward. The exhaustion wasn't even painful, I just existed and ran until my legs gave out. Luckily for me they gave out right on the front porch. I laid on my back hyperventilating for five minutes trying to catch my breath, Mr. Swanson giving me water or just dumping it on me periodically. He eventually just hosed me off, tossed me a towel and helped me inside after I had dried off. I woke up on an airship headed to Beacon Academy with a note pinned to my new jacket that said “Smoke, I regret not being able to say this to you in person, but you didn't wake up in time for me to tell you. I'm proud of you. As a pupil, and if you thought so appropriate as a son. Don't be a stranger if you're ever in the area, and if you see Professor Port make sure to mention me, he isn't too much like me, but he's a respectable man who you can learn from.  
P.S. Klein left you a present, I put it in the left breast of your new coat  
-Ron Swanson  
I smiled and folded the note, putting it in one of my free pockets. I then reached into the left breast pocket of my shirt, and pulled out a full finger length ring, one of those talon ones. It also came with a note that said “Put it on and press the knuckle jewel” -Klein  
Shrugging I did as it said and I watched as it clicked a few times mechanically before going through some of the most voodoo bullshit I've ever seen and turning into some custom brass knuckles. I pressed the button again and it turned back into the talon shaped ring I had previously been wearing. I nodded, impressed with the craftsmanship despite the admittedly tacky look of the ring itself. Then I heard the gasps of amazement from beside me as people began to run towards one end of the ship. Deciding to go with the flow I stood up and walked over to the same window as everyone else. I saw over enough of the crowd to notice the fuss (I am 6’4 afterall). There it was in all of its glory, Beacon Academy.


End file.
